


Memories Of A Past SMP

by JuniorMint_14



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), SMPLive, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Almost everyone in the SMP is mentioned, Connor just wanted to be a good friend, Coping, Dark Past, Dream Smp, Explicit Language, Friendship, Gen, Ghost Schlatt, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Light Angst, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Recovered Memories, Sad, Schlatt’s fucking dead, Stupidity, idk - Freeform, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:20:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27835915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuniorMint_14/pseuds/JuniorMint_14
Summary: Shortly after Connor Joined Dream’s SMP, he was informed on what had happened to L’manberg’s previous President.Wanting to say goodbye to his old friend one last time, he takes an afternoon trip to visit the grave.Little did he know, the dead don’t always rest easy...
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), bruh - Relationship
Comments: 8
Kudos: 102





	1. Grief

**Author's Note:**

> I SWEAR TO GOD. THIS IS NOT A FUCKING SHIP FIC!
> 
> IF YALL SHIP THIS, I WILL PERSONALLY COME TO YOUR HOUSE AND SHATTER THE BONES IN YOUR LEGS WITH A RUSTY BASEBALL BAT!
> 
> DONT FUCKING SHIP CC’S UNLESS THEY HAVE EXPLICITLY SAID THEY ARE OKAY WITH IT! OR IF YOU EXPLICITLY SEPARATE THE CONTENT CREATOR FROM THE CHARACTERS THEY PLAY!
> 
> GOT IT? GOOD.
> 
> ..............................Anyway................................................................................
> 
> First fic im posting on AO3. POG!
> 
> I just missed the Connor and Schlatt interactions, okay? They have such a great friendship, and I really want more plot and story with them. So... I made this.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> ........................................................................................................................

After pulling the diamond helmet off of his head, Connor let out a tender sigh as he emptied the rest of his inventory into the smooth oak chest. He stared blankly into the box as he reached for a small yellow flower, his hands curling around the stem in a delicate fashion. He stared at it for a moment; his gaze softening to a somber smile, before gently tucking it into his personal inventory. He reached in the box a second time, this time his hand surrounding a small round object. He didn't dare look at it, instead placing it in his pocket with a quiet huff. His hand trailed along the edge of the lid as he heard it shut with a soft click.

He took one long glance around his humble home; his large glass walls displaying the outside world surrounding him, before pattering off through the broad wooden doors. The sun would be setting soon, and he wanted to get this done before it got too dark.

With his hands tucked gently in the warm pockets of his Sonic onesie, Connor began to trail the prime path. Smoothly striding past Tommy’s house, over the bridge, and through the tunnel to the central area of L’Manberg.

He descended the stairs and headed up the main street, casting a glance at the monuments surrounding him. The towers that pierced the blue skies, the small houses built of stone, the buildings with half of their walls destroyed, all structures that reminded him of a past SMP. He smiled to himself as he trekked through the soon to be repaired L’Manberg, avoiding the large crater that resided in the middle of the country.

As he neared his destination, Connor began to second guess himself. But he kept pushing forward, his hand surrounding the round object placed in his pocket earlier as motivation to keep moving forward.

He made a sharp turn to face the side of one of the mountains, and finally stopped. Scanning his eyes up and down at the monument before him. His heart grew heavy as he stood in front of the burial site of his friend.

The burial site of JSchlatt.

Connor began to approach the entrance of the stone tomb, feeling his stomach twist and turn with a sense of unease. Rows of seats flanking him on both sides. It seemed unorganised, dusty, and unwanted. This was not the tomb of a hero, but it was the place of his friend’s remains. Connor’s bright red shoes came to a halt, as his eyes wandered to the framed photo hanging in front of him.

The photo was of Schlatt alright, standing tall and proud. A wide smile spread across his face, the red background matching his crimson tie. He wore a suit, perfectly ironed and fitted expertly to his tall frame. His prolonged horns sprouting from his wavy, brown hair, and curving around his ears, coming to a deadly point in front. He looked just like Connor remembered him… maybe with a little more facial hair than usual. But other than that, it was still Schlatt.

Connor lowered himself down so he was kneeling before the grave. He pulled his hoodie down, the cool air rushing through his chestnut hair. Reaching his hand out and releasing a soft breath as his hand trailed along the grain of the wall. It was cold and rough, with bits of sand rolling along the lines of his fingerprints. He hung his head low, closing his eyes with a sigh.

“Umm… Hey Schlatt.” Connor cleared his throat. “It’s… me. It's Connor.” He chuckled slightly. “I wanted to say goodbye to you… I, uh, didn't really get the chance when… it... happened.” Connor’s voice wavered as he remembered what Tommy had told him.

Despite being surrounded by literally everyone, Schlatt had died alone. No one was on his side, so no one came to his aid when he began to cough, clutching on to his chest in pain. No one offered him a hand as he fell to his knees, his bottle shattering against the floor of the caravan. No one showed any sign of sympathy as Schlatt fell to the ground gasping for air, his nails scraping the wooden flooring in a desperate attempt to stay alive.

Tears made their way down the sides of Connors cheeks,  
“I’m… I’m sorry, man.” Connor brought his other hand up to his face to wipe away the tears. “I’m sorry I wasn't there…” He paused a moment, attempting to regain his composure. He took a deep breath before removing his hand from the side of the stone and reaching into his inventory.

“I… brought you something.” He held the small, yellow flower flat in his palm. “It’s a little stupid… but it’s better than nothing I guess…” He smiled as he lowered the plant to the ground before the vault. The bright yellow petals sang out against the dull, ashy gravel. He stared down at the flower for a bit, letting his eyes clear up from the previous tears shed.

“Oh! I almost forgot!” Connor spoke with a slight hope in him. “I thought you'd want to have this…” He reached into his pocket to pull out the small, golden object. He lifted the object at the level of his eyes, it rested in between Connor’s pointer finger and thumb.

“Remember this?” He turned it gently as if to take one last glance before finally putting it to rest.

“The last Schlatt coin.”

The coin; once a bright gold with near precision on each marking and letter, now had dulled to a soft blonde, with the occasion scratch and dent peppered along the mirroring sides.

“Sorry it's not really in perfect condition…” Connor muttered, depositing the coin next to the yellow flower with a soft tink. “But, I think it's important you have it…” Connor smiled sadly to himself, shoving both his hands back into the pockets of his onesie. Taking a deep breath, Connor shut his eyes tightly, giving Schlatt one final moment of silence before he left.

“...Connor? What are you doing here?”

A sound rose from the emptiness. It was no other person or entity that stirred in the darkness. He had heard that voice before, however. A voice from long ago. A voice that no longer existed, or shouldn't exist.

Connor’s eyes shot open and his heart raced as he slowly lifted his head to look up at the noise.  
The man who had been buried in the grave, now looked down at him with a wide grin. Connor's eyes grew wide, stumbling as he shuffled backwards in a panic.

“HOLY SHIT!”

Schlatt stood, no… Schlatt floated in front of the very wall that he was supposed to be buried behind. He still looked the same, chops, horns, and all. Only this Schlatt appeared the way Connor had remembered him. No longer in a suit and tie, but in his old blue sweater/hoodie thing. But something was off... This Schlatt was nearly transparent, his eyes were glossed over white, and a trail of dark liquid was seeping out of the side of his mouth. And interestingly enough, a small red heart with a split down the middle rested on the left side of Schlatt’s chest.

Connor was horrified.

Schlatt waved his hands around him,

“What?” Schlatt questioned. “Connor you look like you've seen a ghost.” Schlatt stated as a matter of fact.

Connor blinked a couple times to make sure he wasn't seeing things. Surely this wasn't the real Schlatt, let alone the ghost of his deceased friend. He slowly shut his eyes and muttered under his breath,

“He’s not real Connor, you're just seeing things because you feel guilty…” He tried to convince himself, opening his eyes back up. And when the floating goat-man remained in his sight, Connor decided that he had gone crazy.

“I don't believe it…” Connor’s hand rested against his forehead.

Schlatt’s face contorted to a frown,

“Don’t believe what?” Schlatt began to gesture wildly. “Connor what the hell are you talking ab-” Schlatt stopped as he caught a glimpse of his hand in the corner of his eye. He stared down at his nearly transparent hand. “What the fuck?” Schlatt brought his other hand up, rotating both of them slowly. “What the fuck!” He yelled louder, reaffirming his confusion.

He glanced over at Connor who seemed just as confused as he was, if not more shocked. Schlatt’s milky white eyes widened as he realised.

“Holy shit, AM I DEAD?” He screamed, his voice scratching against the stone walls.

Connor had trouble answering the entity in front of him. It might have been that he was still in a state of shock, or perhaps he honestly didn't know what to tell Ghost-Schlatt. He cleared his throat when he realised Schlatt was still peering at him for an answer. He looked Schlatt up and down slowly,

“Uh Huh…” Connor affirmed, raising a finger to point out the obvious behind Schlatt.

Schlatt glanced behind him, gazing at the tomb and the photo of himself that hung above it. He turned back to look around the venue, the dark seats, the stone grave. His face immediately dropped as he began to connect the dots.  
Schlatt’s hands grew shaky as he raised them to the top of his head, his fingers grazing along the ripples on his horns.  
“Oh my god…” He croaked.

Connor's heart sank as he watched the shock of death set in for Schlatt. It was weird sure… but it was Schlatt. Connor felt himself slowly begin to stand back up, cautiously approaching Ghost-Schlatt. Feeling the need to reassure him, he reached out a tentative hand.

“...Schlatt…” Connor breathed.

Schlatt didn't look at him, his eyes remaining glued to the floor.

“How?” Schlatt stammered. “How... did this happen?” He trailed off, laughing slightly to cope. His hands moving to grip his horns tightly, his shoulders shuddering.

Connor pulled his hand back, shaking his head.

“Schlatt I… I don’t-”

“JUST FUCKING TELL ME!” Schlatt screeched, whipping around to face Connor.

Connor’s eyes widened in surprise, only to be replaced with a mixed look of confusion and sympathy.

“How much, do you actually remember Schlatt?” Connor questioned.

Schlatt pulled back.

“I…” Schlatt lowered his hands down to his sides, “I was the president… of… Manberg? L’manberg? Whatever the fuck he called it.” He relayed the most recent memories he had to Connor. “Quackity was there… as my vice president… I think…” His eyes flashed, “Oh, and Tubbo was… my right hand man!” He shook his head softly. “I banished Wilbur and Tommy…?” He turned back to Connor. “That's about it...”

Connor bit his lip, tapping his fingers against the side of his onesie.

“So you don't remember huh…?” He sighed. “Can we go sit somewhere? It might take a while to explain…”

Schlatt nodded.

“...Ya… we can go sit somewhere.”


	2. Reality

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol okay, So I wanted this to be a 2 chapter story but guess what?
> 
> I got carried away and I now it’s like maybe 3 or 4 chapters but idk so.... 
> 
> For now it’s gonna be a ? ;)
> 
> Yay! Ch. 2 POG!
> 
> ................................................................................................................................................

As Connor led Schlatt back through L’manberg, he began to grow more comfortable around the ghost. Having finally accepted that this was indeed, the real Schlatt. Connor continued shooting occasional glances back to make sure the spirit was still trailing after him. He walked in silence along the prime path as Schlatt floated a few feet behind him.

Schlatt couldn't help himself but gaze around in awe, squinting in confusion at the changes that had happened since he had last been there.

“What the fuck happened here?” Schlatt questioned, floating around a large chunk of rock that had made its way onto the middle of the prime path. He was clearly confused at the wreckage and mess that was L’manberg. It wasn't anything like he had remembered.

Connor wasn't usually one to pay attention to the events going on in the new server. But he knew enough to give Schlatt the gist of what had happened while he was 6 feet under.

Connor shrugged his shoulders,

“Wilbur happened… And... maybe Technoblade?” He sighed, shoving his hands back into his pockets. “That's what I was told.”

Schlatt shook his head,

“What? Why would Wilbur… how?” He understood how someone like Technoblade could have done something like this. Techno was an anarchist, and craved chaos of all forms. But Wilbur?

“Apartently a fuck ton of TNT was planted under L’manberg... “ Connor gestured lazily at the podium as he made his way around the corner. “And Wilbur pressed the button to detonate it.”

Schlatt stopped to stare at the mangled podium. Wooden planks jutted out and splintered along the very top. The purple flags that had decorated the sides of the pillars were now gone. Chunks of dirt and stone lay out in seemingly random places. Water flowed down into the crater beneath the podium with such an uneven pattern it was making Schlatt feel sick.

Wilbur destroyed it?

Memories of the election pooled into Schlatt’s mind. He once stood on that very same podium, as a leader, as a representative for the country. He stood up there with Tommy, Wilbur, Tubbo, and Quackity. He remembered how pleased he was to hear those words uttered by Wilbur,

“Schlatt 2020 is the elected winner.”

He was elected right? 

“You coming?” Connor’s soft voice broke Schlatt’s perplexed thoughts.

Schlatt glanced over at Connor then back to stare at the wreckage.

“Ya… It's just... so different…” He brushed his hair back, gliding away from the fallen kingdom.

Connor let a soft smile show before continuing the path.

“I bet. I've only been here a couple days… and from what i've heard, things have changed a lot.” He shuffled along the path.

Schlatt continued to look around, taking note of the big and small changes surrounding him. An island, with a rollercoaster and llamas…

He tilted his head to the side as a vague memory began to form in his mind.

A man in a very colorful hoodie cheered about something called “Party island” resurfaced, causing Schlatt to chuckle at the thought of it.

He smiled to himself and took note of the memories slowly beginning to return as he continued to look around.

They continued down the path, Connor occasionally stopping to check to make sure Schlatt wasn't too overwhelmed by the changes. Schlatt just nodded along, slowly piecing together what he had forgotten.

It wasn't until they rounded another corner, that Schlatt stopped dead in his tracks.

“Hey what's the hold up?” Connor commented, stopping and turning back to look at Schlatt. Connor's face dropped. “Schlatt? Are you okay?”

Schlatt didn’t respond. He couldn't respond.

The dark aura around Schlatt screamed out in a panic. His glassy eyes widened as a mix of fear, uneasiness, and familiarity washed over them. He felt his mouth fill with bile, his throat becoming raw and scratchy. A black, tar-like substance began to creep its way up his throat and out of the sides of his mouth slowly, pooling under his chin. His biceps began to ache and burn as if they were ignited in flame. His hand shot up to chest in an instant, clutching the cotton fabric with an iron grip. He could have sworn he felt a heartbeat.

“...Why… Why do I recognize that place?” Schlatt choked out.

“What?”

“That van… I…” Schlatt swallowed nervously. “I feel like…”

Schlatt didn’t complete his sentence. Instead, his body seemed to move on its own. Merely switching to autopilot as he hovered over the torn country of L’Manberg, towards the grey, deteriorating, camarvan.

Connor kept quiet. Not wanting to interrupt Schlatt in any way, he silently followed behind a few feet back.

As Schlatt approached the van, his eyes flicked over the details peppering the structure. The sides that weren't completely demolished, were charred over with black and golden brown burn marks from the explosion. Chunks of the roof were caved in, while other pieces merely didn't exist anymore. The door had been completely blown off, the hinges still attached at the edge of the frame.

The camarvan was destroyed.

Schlatt floated around the van, hand still clutching at his chest as his “heart” began to throb in pain. He hovered by the entrance, his mind humming. Almost as if someone was tapping a drum rapidly, yelling at him to go, go, go.

Schlatt let out an insecure breath. Swallowing back a chunk of bile, before hovering inside.

As soon as Schlatt entered, the tapping grew more urgent in his head. As if a sea of people were hitting, again and again. It synched up with the throbbing pain in his chest, repeating the same beat. Turning into a symphony of sorrow, pain, regret, and fear.

Connor pulled his hoodie closer to his face as he entered the camarvan, ducking under a chunk of splintered wood. Nearly tripping over the debris that littered the floor.

Schlatt stood in the middle of the van, clutching onto his heart with both hands now, doubled over. His chest practically ripping itself apart. Why did his chest hurt so much? Why wouldn't it stop? The only thing he could smell is toast. Why toast? What does toast have to do anything with this? His head swam and pounded as he continued to stay in the building. The drumming was growing loud. Too loud. Why wont it stop?

“What happened here?” Schlatt whispered, his voice trembling.

“Schlatt…” Connor tested, pulling his hoodie down slowly.

To Schlatt, Connors voice was slightly muffled. His ears picked up at the sound of Connors soothing voice, but it didn't stop the pain.

Connor took one look around the destroyed camarvan before letting out a sigh.

“This is where you died Schlatt.”

And just like that, everything clicked.


	3. Remembrance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Schlatt remembers how he died.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So..... sorry for not updating sooner! I got really bad writers block (hence the shorter chapter) and I didn’t want to disappoint y’all.
> 
> But! I kept writing anyway! So enjoy!
> 
> :)
> 
> .................... .................... .................... .................... .................... .................... .................... ....................

Visions of past events engulfed Schlatt’s mind, dragging him into a raging tidal wave of thought and repressed memories. 

The election...

Exiling Wilbur and Tommy...

Tubbo...

The Festival...

Quackity…

The final battle…

The Camarvan.

He remembered all of it.

Every.

Little.

Detail.

Nearly everyone was there, standing in that van. Staring at him, mixed feelings of satisfaction, disappointment, and approval plastered across their blurry faces.

He recognized all of them, all of them, starring as Schlatt began to desperately gasp for any amount of air. The sour taste of alcohol layered against his tongue. The cold, sticky, feeling it left as it seeped out of the sides of his mouth, curling around his facial hair and dripping into a small puddle on the ground below. They stood in silence as he fought hysterically against the violent monster ripping and tearing at the inside of his chest. They showed no sign of sympathy as he raked his nails across his crumpled, white shirt, leaving bright red lines, checkered across his torso. Clenching his teeth together, pulling at his heart in an attempt to stop the excruciating pain.

He remembered the spotty darkness surrounding his already limited vision.

He remembered the loud thud his shaking knees made, when they knocked against the hard wooden flooring of that van.

He remembered the stinging, yet familiar taste of burning alcohol peppering his cracked lips.

He remembered the glass bottle slipping from his hand and shattering into a million tiny pieces on the floor.

He remembered his hands shooting to the ground to support him from falling, only to have the small bits of glass shred into the smooth palms of his hands. Causing wet, tacky, blood to weave in between his fingers.

He remembered the moment his body changed…

From fighting for his life…

To finally accepting his death.

Schlatt remembered everything.

While he floated in the currently destroyed camarvan; during this time of remembrance, the pain in Schlatt’s chest began to ease to a dull ache. Diminishing completely soon after. The drumming in his head had stopped, letting him relax and listen to the slow crackle and whine of the deteriorating van's structure. His ghostly body slowly began to tilt upright, his hands lowering softly, resting at his sides.

Schlatt swallowed, regaining his posture.

“I… I remember now...”

His voice was no longer strained, no longer weighed down by confusion or hurt. Instead, he spoke with a sense of clarity and understanding.

Schlatt turned his head to look over at Connor, who had been watching Schlatt from a respectful distance, staying silent as Schlatt’s memories of his death had returned.

Schlatt turned around, searching for some form of acknowledgment from his past friend.

Connor’s sad gaze met Schlatt’s understanding face. They quietly starred as a mutual recognition of one another came to fruition.

Connors sympathetic look, reassuring Schlatt like a soft, woolen blanket being placed on his shoulders. Covering any doubts he had in his mind. 

Schlatt’s compassionate expression, letting Connor know that he didn't blame him, that Connor could let go of the guilt that had plagued his mind since he had first heard news of Schlatt’s passing.

They stood in that rotting and broken building, knowing that in the end, everything would be okay.

Schlatt shook his head softly.

“Now what?”

Connor sucked air through his teeth, rubbing the back of his neck. He was unsure of what would happen next. Would Schlatt disappear? Would he stay? If he remembered everything now, would he want to see anyone else? Sure, he forgave Connor. But did he forgive the others?

Connor closed his eyes, thinking. That didn't matter now. All that mattered was that Schlatt was back, in one form or another. And that Connor was happy to see his friend get closure. That he was happy to see Schlatt again.

Connor sighed, looking up at Ghost-Schlatt with a soft smile.

“...We can sit on top of my roof? The suns setting soon, and it's pretty nice up there... If that's okay with you?” He suggested, shrugging his shoulders slightly.

Schatt’s soft, animal-like ears pricked up at the sound of Connors suggestion.

“That… ya. Let's go sit up there.” Schlatt nodded.


	4. Devotion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ending to Connor and Ghost-Schlatt’s unexpected meet up.
> 
> ...........................................................................................................

“So what's up with the furry suit?”

Schlatt glanced at his nails as they made their way along the prime path, up to Connor’s house.

Connor stopped in his tracks to give Ghost-Schlatt a death stare.

“...For the last time. IT’S NOT A FURRY SUIT!” Connor screamed, stomping his foot down like an upset child.

Schlatt only chuckled, floating around Connor to get a closer look at his so-called “uniform”.

“Eh… Looks like a Fursuit to me bud…” Schlatt laughed, folding his arms in a victory pose. “Didn't realise you liked Sonic that much.”

Connors face flushed to a bright, tomato red.

“That’s not fair!” He shouted. “Besides, YOU’RE A GOAT-MAN FOR FUCKS SAKE!” He hissed, pulling his hoodie up and tightening the strings.

Schlatt gestured to himself dramatically,

“That I am! But I'm definitely not some Sonic stan, who wears a fursuit of his favorite character…” He grinned at Connor devilishly.

Connor smacked his forehead in an all to serious facepalm.

“I’m not having this conversation with you.” He pulled his hand down to the bridge of his nose, “I just like Sonic okay? Is that illegal in Ghost-Schlatt’s world?” He gestured wildly.

Schlatt laughed, straightening his tie.

“Not yet. But now that you mention it… I should have had that written into my policies while I was president...” He tapped his chin thoughtfully.

Connors face dropped, turning back to walk on the path.

“Come on, the suns almost setting.” He rolled his eyes, hiding his annoyed smile underneath.

They trekked up the creaking stairs that were placed along the side of Connor’s house. Schlatt merely floated next to Connor as he hoisted himself up to the rooftop. Connor lazily pointed a finger at a small wooden bench on the edge that overlooked L’manberg.

“Right there.” He spoke softly as he wandered over to the peaceful spot.

Pulling his hoodie back down and taking a seat to the right, he gestured for Schlatt to take the empty spot next to him.

Schlatt nodded and floated down, sitting next to his friend.

They sat in silence for a moment. Taking the time to enjoy the view of the soft sunset reflecting against the harshness of the recently destroyed country.

“Thank you, by the way.” Schlatt was the first to speak up.

Connor glanced at Schlatt quizzically.

“...For visiting my grave…” Schlatt glanced down shyly. “...And, and not just that…” He laughed softly, reaching into the inner pocket of his suit. “But for bringing me… these.” 

Connor looked down at Schlatt’s hand.

The small yellow flower appeared to shine more brightly, now that it laid against Ghost-Schlatt’s transparent hands. Alongside it, rest the small and scuffed, Schlatt-Coin.

Connor pressed his lips together, tapping his fingers against his leg.

“Well, I couldn't show up empty handed could I?”

Schlatt glanced down at his hand, gently picking up the flower in the other. 

“A little gay… But it's nice.” He chirped, rotating it in his hand.

Connor let out a loud laugh, as Schlatt chuckled, tucking it back into the pocket of his black suit.

“Now this… is something I thought I would never see again.” Schlatt picked up the coin, studying the round object closely. Connor watched in delight as Schlatt continued to gawk over the old coin.

“You've held on to it? After all this time?” Schlatt questioned, looking up at Connor.

Connor nodded,

“Never let go of it.”

Schlatt felt his heart throb as emotion began to surge through him. He quickly looked up, avoiding the tears from falling against his cheeks.

Connor smiled, looking back at the sunset, as Schlatt sniffled, tucking the coin back into its rightful place.

“Well, I really appreciate that, Connor.” Schlatt barely whispered, his voice slightly strained with emotion. He cleared his throat, “I really do.” He spoke more clearly, regaining his composure.

Connor nodded,

“Do you miss it?”

“Hmm?”

“I mean the old days…” Connor looked out over the horizon, a soft smile trailing his lips, “Schlatt-Coin, The Cuckshed-“

“Eat Pant Conar?” Schlatt interrupted with a grin, as memories began to warm his mind. He looked down at his transparent hands, “Ya.” He exhaled gently, “I kinda do…”

And as the reds and oranges began to burn through the sky, kissing the pink clouds and gliding across the mountains, Connor felt a lump begin to form in his throat.

“Ya… me too.” He croaked out, blinking rapidly in an attempt to diminish the tears welling up. Schlatt glanced at his friend beside him, noticing the crack in his voice, but he didn't say a single thing.

Instead, Schlatt merely rested a gentle ghost hand on Connor’s shoulder.

“I missed you Connor.”

Connor froze; practically choking, not because of what Ghost-Schlatt had said, no.

But because he could feel Schlatt’s hand touching him. He could feel the warmth, he could feel the soft weight that rested against the blue fabric of his onesie on his shoulder.

Schlatt really was there.

Connor smiled, basking in the memories of the past and the true presence of his friend. He let himself close his eyes, tears gently rolling down the outlines of his face.

He stayed like that for a moment, letting the last bit of the sun's golden rays paint his face.

When the warmth of the sun had gone, Connor finally took a shaky breath. He opened his eyes and bunched up the sleeve of his onesie, whipping the tear stains away from his face. Chuckling to stop himself from crying again, he turned, opening mouth to speak…

Schlatt was gone.

Connor stared at the empty and barren spot on the wooden bench next to him.

His mouth hung open slightly, confusion clouding his mind.

There left no trace of the ghost-goat. No sign that he had even been there.

Just Connor.

Sitting alone on the bench.

In the dark.

Connor tenderly lifted his hand, moving it to rest on the opposite shoulder.

Moving it to rest, on the same spot that Schlatt had touched.

Connor beamed, a slight light in his eyes flashing, as he squeezed his own shoulder.

“I missed you too Schlatt.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITS FINALLY FINISHED!!!
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed it!
> 
> This is the first complete fic I’ve posted on AO3!
> 
> Thank u for all of the support and...
> 
> Thank you guys so much for your kind words, and Kudos!!!
> 
> Ily!


End file.
